


Angel Girl

by Asylum



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Glee - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Polyamory, Relationship(s), faberrittana
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-17
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2017-11-21 09:05:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asylum/pseuds/Asylum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rachel Berry is the laughing stock of the school. She dresses funny, her nose is too big, she’s shy and she’s smart. But Rachel has a dark secret, one that she’ll never tell. Can the three girls who have tormented her through-out high school bring her out of the shadows and into the light? Will she be their angel?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fallen Angels

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing: Faberrittana (Rachel/Santana/Quinn/Brittany)  
> Spoilers: none, really.  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. I only own the characters I make up. And the plot. :)  
> Rating: MA/NC-17
> 
> Warnings: Ok, everyone, this story deals with some pretty heavy stuff. It will be dark. There will be graphic descriptions of abuse and semi-graphic descriptions of rape. If you can’t handle that, then please DO NOT READ. This story also deals with polyamory (multi-person love/relationship/sex), abuse, violence, bullying, death, sexual situations, lesbian, gay and straight relationships, harmful self-image, and all around shenanigans. Kids (anyone under 18), stay away. Please note the rating. You have been warned.
> 
> A.N: I’m changing the story a little; Rachel is still adopted, but she only has one father, who is not gay. Quinn, Santana and Brittany have been her tormentors, but only because they are all in love with her (of course :D). I’m also moving the story line ahead a bit, so all our girls are in Senior year, therefore making sex completely legal (as the girls are all going to be either 18 or turning 18 in this story) just in case.
> 
> A.N. 2: I DO NOT like Finn or Mr. Shue, so there will be some serious bashing of both parties. Yet again, you have been warned.

Prologue: Fallen Angels

_November, 1998_

From the outside, the house looked perfect, warm, inviting, The lawn was mowed, the paint fresh and cheerful, the flowers colorful and healthy. On the outside, they looked like the perfect family, even though there was no mother, they looked happy and whole.

On this inside, two young girls, twins, cower in a corner of a dirty living room, watching their father with wary eyes. They look to be about 5, but their eyes show jadedness that no child should ever have.

If you looked close enough, you could see the differences in the two girls. One was slightly skinnier, and had a tough determined and protective attitude, her arm wrapped around her twin in comfort. The other was the opposite, shorter, kinder, softer somehow.

The man they are watching is pacing, a clear glass bottle in hand, muttering nonsense angrily. The twins knew he had already finished one bottle, and this current one was already half empty. He hadn’t noticed them yet, but it was only a matter of time they knew.

Seconds passed, minutes. Each felt like a lifetime, until finally he caught site of them out of the corner of his eye, and smirked, an evil glint making them flinch. He advances on them, making them shrink further into the corner, until he reaches out and grabs the softer twin, shaking her like a ragdoll. She whimpers, and the stronger twin clenches her fists as she plows into his waist, grabbing his attention. He drops the softer twin, and her protector nods her head towards the stairs, telling her to hide in their room. Tears fall down the softer twins face as she walks towards the stairs, listening to the sound of a child’s whimpers and fists hitting flesh.

_March, 1999_

The two girls sit on the corner of two busy streets, a beat-up dirty had on the ground while the two of them sing. They are smiling, happy even, to be away from their father momentarily. Happy to be singing. Every few minutes, a woman or man will drop some pennies or a quarter into their hat, pity in their eyes that the girls try to ignore.

Time passes by, and slowly it starts to get darker and darker. The softer twin carefully folds the dirty blanket they had been sitting on as her sister counts the change and slips it into their backpack. They'd had enough money earlier to buy two cans of soup for dinner, and were saving the rest for tomorrow and the next day. It wasn’t often they could escape the house, and they relished each and every time.

As they walked home, the softer twin told stories, of dragons and magic, of handsome knights for her sister and beautiful princesses for her, rescuing them from the evil king holding them hostage.

Nearing their prison, their smiles fade, and they hold hands to face the coming storm.

_June, 1999_

The softer twin looks through their barren kitchen, trying to find something for them to eat at school. She finds 3 pieces of bread, a packet of ketchup and a juice box. She carefully wraps the bread in a paper towel, and places the items in a plastic bag from the grocery store. The stronger twin walks into the kitchen, carrying their one backpack with their school supplies. She smiles at her twin, and receives one in return, making both girls giggle lightly before they link their pinky fingers and run to catch the bus.

At school, they sit together in the back of their classroom, the tough twin looking bored and glaring at anyone glancing their way, while the softer twin dutifully and happily does whatever the teacher tells them.

The teacher watches the two girls, concern etched on her face. She’s never seen either girl with bruises, but the signs are there nonetheless. Not wanting to accuse without evidence, she says nothing, and prays to God she is wrong.

At lunch time, the softer twin unpacks their lunch, giving her twin a slice of bread and taking one for herself. They both sip at the precious juice. When the two slices are gone, the tougher twin tries to make her sister take the last piece of bread, but the softer twin just spreads the ketchup over it and rips it in half. The tougher twin grumbles, but doesn’t argue.

_Christmas Eve, 2000_

They are in their room, under a thin blanket with a dying flashlight. The softer sister uses the weak light to read from a beat up book while her sister holds her hand.

Suddenly their door bangs open and the blanket is yanked off of them. The softer twin is thrown against the wall as the book is grabbed. The last thing she sees is her sister getting picked up by the throat as her vision fades to black.

_Christmas Morning, 2000_

The softer twin wakes up, her head pounding and her tiny body sore. Blinking in the too-bright sunlight, she looks around and cries out.

Her sister, her beloved twin is lying across the room, her skin black and blue, covered in blood and her body contorted.

As the softer twin reaches her, she drops to her knees, shakily reaching out to touch her twin.

Her skin was cold.

She wasn’t breathing.

Her heart no longer beat in time with hers.

_Christmas, 2003_

She hates Christmas. Every year, all Christmas means to her is another year without her other half, without her sister.

She promised her sister that no matter what, she would always fight, always achieve their dreams, so she fought. She survived. She kept their dream alive. But the day her sister died, a large part of her died too. She wasn’t living. She was surviving.

Her father told everyone that they had been playing, the two sisters, on the edge of a rocky cliff. A slip, a bad fall. Nothing could have been done to save her. She had been dead before she hit the bottom. Tragic, simply tragic.

The funeral had been torture. It was a closed casket, but she’d had to stand next to her father, crying tears of pain while her father cried tears of mockery. She’d had to endure the hugs of people she’d never met, saying how sorry they were for her loss, avoiding eyes filled with emptiness and pity.

The tombstone her father had bought was the nicest thing he had ever done for her, even though it was only for show. All polished white stone and black lettering, with a beautiful angel girl watching the heavens. The softer twi…girl had almost smiled, glad to see what her sister truly looked like now.

Now she sat in their room – no, only hers – looking blankly up at the ceiling, remembering the stories she used to read to her twin. The door opened, and she tensed, knowing who was coming into the room.

He sat on the bed – something she wasn’t expecting. She could smell the alcohol on his breath, acrid, lurid, stinging. Suddenly, she felt his hands on her body, running up and down, almost gently. She had a sick feeling growing in her stomach.

He began talking slowly, slurring, calling her different names than he usually did. His touches started getting rougher, slipping under her clothing, squeezing, pinching, grabbing her breasts. One hand slipped under her pants, the other hand leaving her body. She heard a zipper being lowered, and squeezed her eyes shut as his fingers began….touching her.

His breathing got heavier, becoming grunts. She felt bile rising in her throat; he was touching himself, while touching her, forcing his thick, harsh fingers inside her body. Her tears fell silently, unbidden.

It felt like hours before it was over, before he stopped touching her, patted her on the shoulder and left the room.

Her tears didn’t stop, but her heart felt like it had.

_August, 2006_

Everything had started normal, him coming into her room, touching her.

Tonight was different. This time, he didn’t touch himself. Dread built in her stomach, like the first time 3 years ago. She knew what was coming. He had promised that one day…one day he would…

He unzipped his pants. She looked away, desperate to think of something to take her away from this place, from this hell. As he pulled off her pants, her underwear, she thought of the beautiful princesses she had dreamed would take her away from here. As he forced himself inside her, she cried out in pain, horrible pain, only to be slapped hard across the face. He started moving, thrusting. Every time she made a sound, he would hit her, punch her, so she stared at the ceiling, thinking of her sister, thinking of the only good thing she had ever had.

When he finished this time, he told her what a good little slut she had been and laughed. He walked out of the room, taking the very last shred of her innocence with him.

_September, 2008_

It was the first day of her second year in High School. You would think that she would hate it; she was on the bottom of the totem pole, a loser, hated or at the very least disliked by almost everyone in school, slushied every day, called names like ‘man-hands’, ‘treasure trail’ and ‘yentl’.

But she loved high school. Even though she was disliked, even though she had no friends, for 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, she got to learn, she got to be away from her father, she got to sing. Glee was her haven.

And even more than that, she got to see them. You see, she’d fallen in love, three times over. It didn’t matter that they hated her more than anyone else in the school. It didn’t matter that loving 3 women at once made her even more of a freak. It didn’t matter that she’d never do anything about it anyway. She knew that she could love. She knew that she wasn’t her father, and for that, she would love them in silence for the rest of her life, and more.

Looking up at the entrance of McKinley High School, Rachel Berry took a deep breath, slipped on her school persona, and smiled as she walked into another day of her life.


	2. Hello Angel

Chapter 1: Hello Angel

September 2009

Junior Year. Rachel smiled inwardly as she sat down for first period. Only two years of high school left; well, less if you were Rachel Berry. She only had a year and a half of hell at home until she could escape, legally, as an adult.

Rachel had been taking as many extra periods and AP classes as she could so she could graduate early, and by God she would. She was set to receive her GED just before Christmas break, 2010. Just before her 18th birthday. She had everything planned. She’d been saving spare change since she was 9, and had enough for at least a bus ticket to New York, maybe enough for a night or two at a hostel. From there, she would sing on street corners and in central park, anywhere really, just like she and…just like she used to. Until she had enough money to stay in a real apartment, maybe take a few singing classes. Anything to get noticed; anything to achieve their dreams, her dreams.

She had only one regret; leaving the loves of her life behind. She knew they didn’t think much of her. In the last year though, with Glee, she’d gotten to know them even better, and loved them even more. She’d even befriended them somewhat…sometimes.

Somehow, at 17, Rachel knew that they were her forever. She would never love anyone else as she loved them, but she knew that she would never be enough for any one of them…let alone all three of them.

Santana Lopez reminded her most of her sister. So protective, so fierce on the outside. So many feared her; said she had no heart, called her cold, a bitch. But Rachel remembered Santana before they all had entered high school, remembered that shy, sweet smile, that gently wave of her hand every time they saw each other. Rachel remembered the last day she had seen that look directed at her; it was the 2nd week of freshman year, the first day Santana had put on the Cheerio’s uniform. The first day she had watched Rachel be slushied, and done nothing about it.

Rachel wasn’t mad, she understood. But there was a sadness in Santana’s eyes that day she would never forget.

She still saw that sweet, gentle look on Santana’s face, mostly when she was talking to Brittany, sometimes with Quinn, and every time Rachel saw it her heart fluttered and her body warmed.

Brittany Peirce was the sweetest girl she had ever met. She was very misunderstood; people thought she was stupid, a vain, vapid blonde, but nothing could be further from the truth. Rachel could see past the veil that very few others could; Brittany just preferred to live in a different world than everyone else. She lived in a world where everyone was always happy; no one hated each other, there were plenty of hugs (and ducks, of course), people were good inside and smiles were a requirement (and math was just an unpleasant thought).

Of course, she didn’t – and couldn’t – live in this world all of the time; she’d learned that along with Santana and Quinn when they started high school. But Brittany preferred to try and see the good in everyone, even if she had to do some slightly mean things to stay with her friends every once in a while.

All of this made Rachel want to protect Brittany with everything she had, and she knew Santana and Quinn were the same. The tall blonde was a wise, but innocently gentle soul, and those who didn’t see that were close to vermin in Rachel’s book.

And finally, was Quinn Fabray. She was the leader of the threesome, and in some ways Rachel felt like they were on the most even keel. Santana was the Protector, Brittany the innocent, or protected, and Quinn was the middle ground.

Quinn was also the girl who seemed to hate her most.

She always blew hot and cold when it came to Rachel; one day (or week, depending on her mood) she would be friendly (or at least polite) and accepting of platonic advances on Rachel’s part. The next day (or, again, week) she would be ordering slushy facials left and right, throwing out vicious insults (more vicious than usual) and all around being as cruel as she could be.

Rachel strongly suspected Quinn had a mild form of Bipolar disorder. She didn’t really mind however. She’d heard through the rumor mill that Quinn’s family was highly religious and not the good kind either. She was probably under a lot of pressure at home, and released her pent up energy at school, on hapless victims and on the football field during cheerleading practice.

Rachel knew that Quinn just needed a chance to shine, to be set free, and once she was she would fly so high no one could catch her unless she wanted them too.

They were all so different, yet similar too.

So she would leave them be next year, when she set out on her own. Maybe she’d leave them a letter; that was one area that she hadn’t completely planned out yet. She would grieve their loss, she knew. She would feel the emptiness in her chest; her heart from the moment she was born had been cut into 4 pieces. One was already gone, and the other three she was giving up.

But she would survive. She had to. She’d survived all these years, and she wasn’t giving up now. She would achieve the goals she had set, be content, die a spinster cat lady. And she was ok with that. She really, truly was.


	3. Hell's Angels

Chapter 2: Hell’s Angels

_2010_

Santana Lopez, Quinn Fabray and Brittany Pierce were the Queens of McKinley High. They had risen to the top their sophomore year, and kept themselves there through thick and thin.

When Quinn, Santana and Brittany had entered high school, they had known they were meant for each other. They’d known it since they were little, but had agreed to wait at least until they were in college to reveal they were all together. Britt – Santana and Quinn agreed – needed to be protected more, and so Santana was the one who had been the best friend, then the unspoken girlfriend.

Santana had been very carefully to cultivate her reputation. Nobody messed with her, and by association, no one dared mess with her girls, _especially_ Britt. She didn’t mind being seen as the slut of the school, and she didn’t mind that being called that meant boys were spreading some very not true rumors. All that mattered was that her girls knew it wasn’t true, and that they were left alone.

Along with being the ‘school slut’, she was also the badass. Roughing up a couple football players, letting some very un-true rumors run unchecked about her…bedroom _activities_ , perfecting her death glares and voila; you have a very awesome badass persona. Quinn ruled the school with words and secrets, but Santana preferred a more direct approach, with attitude and striking fear into the hearts of all who crossed her.

In all honesty, she didn’t care what people said or thought about her; they could call her a slut and a bitch, talk behind her back about all the untrue things they wanted, they could shoot dirty looks at her back and whatever else those immature hooligans cared to do. As long as her family and girlfriends loved her, and knew that she would die rather than ever hurt them, nothing else mattered.

Quinn Fabray was a complicated person. So much so that even she couldn’t figure herself out sometimes. She’d had to grow up fast; her father had ruled the house with an iron fist and being a child didn’t fit into his schedule. When she met San and Britt, her whole world turned upside down, but in a good way. She knew she was always meant to be with them – even if she had been very young when they had met – but also had known that being a lesbian would not be accepted in her household, let alone being in relationship with two other girls. She’d had to grow up fast – they all had to, really – and at fourteen she certainly knew that coming out to her family would mean being kicked out at best.  
So began the ‘gay beards’.

Finn was the obvious choice. She was head Cheerleader, he was quarterback and captain of the football team; it was a match made in high school heaven. It didn’t hurt that he was dumber than a rock and just as thick.

Her whole life was about appearances (perfection, actually); the perfect daughter, the perfect Catholic girl, the perfect blonde cheerleader with the perfect boyfriend, the perfect student, the perfect manipulator, the perfect bitch. She had so many masks, but they were all just that – masks. The only people who knew who she really was were her loves, and as long as they knew the truth nothing else mattered to her.

Brittany Pierce was a sweet, but highly misunderstood girl. Many people thought she was brainless; nice, adorable, and a good cheerleader, but utterly stupid. The truth was, she knew the world was a bad, scary place. Her fathers had protected her from most of it, but she watched the news channels (not as much as she watched animal planet, but that wasn’t important) and ever since she was a little girl in her own little world she had wanted to stay in that world for as long as she could.

Her fathers had always told her to follow her heart; book smarts weren’t important even if education was, the important thing was her dreams. Brittany knew when high school was over, her little world would have to be pushed back to the box it came from in her mind. 

Out of the three Head Cheerios, she was always seen as the innocent, the one who needed to be protected. The truth was – Quinn and Santana knew – she was the strongest and bravest of all of them. Britt had been the one to bring the trio together, the one to realize their bond was more than just friendship (even at a young age of 9). It was she who got the more stubborn girls to realize their feelings for each other, and to admit them. She wasn’t afraid of the insults and loss of social status if they came out, but she knew that it would devastate her lovers.

She didn’t mind staying silent for now. She knew once they were away from Lima, there would be nothing in their way. Especially William McKinley High School.

Now, it was their senior year, and nothing could stop them. Well…almost nothing. And it wasn’t as if this one thing could stop them, she just…

You see, all three of them were in love with the same girl, Rachel Berry.

Naturally, it was Brittany who had recognized the shift in their dynamic. They had always liked the tiny, quiet girl, from the moment she had moved to town during middle school. They thought she was cute, but didn’t talk to her much. She would help when one of the trio fell and got hurt, or if they looked sad she always had a kind word and a smile. But Rachel was a loner, and no one sought to change that.

Soon though, her shy smiles and soft, dark eyes caught their attention more and more. They started getting butterflies in their stomachs when she giggled or smiled. They blushed when her eyes met theirs. They found her growing bossiness, rather than aggravating, adorable…as was her penchant for animal sweaters.

But the more it happened, the more they (meaning Quinn and Santana) tried to ignore it. They were scared…wasn’t loving _two girls_ enough already? And what if the other two didn’t feel the same? What would that do to their strong but somehow tentative balance? Even Brittany could see they were all developing feelings for Rachel, but she was unsure how her girlfriends would react if she brought it up. No, better to push those…feelings as far away as possible, and keep quiet.

Then high school started, and the Cheerios gave them the perfect excuse, the perfect shield. Slushies.

Rachel had never been the most fashion forward female, and her near neurotic personality made people judge her without knowing her, or wanting to. They judged her without knowing her shy smiles and kindness, and all three girls, Britt especially, (secretly) hated it.

But as soon as they were accepted into the Cheerios – the only three freshmen to be accepted – Quinn and Santana knew that being part of the cheer group was the only way to protect their trio, and vowed to keep their new found security and status. And if that meant pretending to hate Rachel Berry, then so be it. At least (each girl thought separately) that meant their frightening secret crush would stay a secret from their loves.

Or so they thought.

Brittany, though, had finally had enough of the angsty secrets and forlorn looks. She knew that they were all feeling something for the petite girl, and she was tired of walking on eggshells around the subject. Quinn and Santana were so smart, but sometimes they were completely oblivious. One day, at the end of sophomore year when they were all over at Britt’s, she brought up the taboo subject. She told them she knew about their feelings for Rachel – the girls had paled and looked first at her, then guiltily at the each other – and that she felt the same. It took some (a lot of) coaxing, but they finally all came clean with their burgeoning love for the tiny brunette.

But after two years of cruel names (Quinn’s idea, with some of Santana’s input) and slushy facials (also Quinn’s masterpiece), Quinn and Santana were adamant that nothing could change. They were still so afraid of what would happen if they approached Rachel with their feelings; afraid of what the brunette would think of them, afraid of how she would react….afraid that she would tell everyone about them in much deserved revenge.

Brittany was not happy, at all, evidenced by her putting them in the dog house for the next month. She was especially unhappy about the fact that they would continue with their horrible treatment of the other girl they loved. But eventually she understood that both of her girls were trying to protect them in their own ways, even if she disagreed, and she knew that they had their own reasons for the fear they felt.

Junior year came and went, with the attacks on Rachel slowly losing their ferocity. They joined Glee club at the request of Sue, but truthfully they were overjoyed at the chance to be nearer to the petite girl. Hearing her sing was a form of bliss, and they loved watching her in action. She always had a kind, or (more often) constructive, word to say to all of them, and encouraged them to be their best.

When the whole set list debacle happened, they were shocked that she was the one to come to their defense, and fell in love with her just a little bit more. From then on, the attacks became less and less, for which Brittany was ecstatic and grateful, and slowly their animosity became simple feigned indifference. Names were still thrown, but it was more out of habit than cruelty, and slushies had been adopted by the jocks but abandoned by the Cheerios.

Now, it was finally the beginning of Senior year, and things were looking up. They all had plans to move to New York once high school was over; buy an apartment together and pursue their dreams. Nothing was going to stop them. Nothing.

Not even their love for a tiny brunette singer.


	4. Concrete Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Glee or Concrete Angel by Martina McBride. Rose is mine though, so hands off. I am also broke, so no money being made. Cross my heart and hope to die….

Chapter 3: Concrete Angel

5:00am saw the sun beginning to lighten the sky as Rachel’s alarm clock buzzed quietly to wake her. Rachel loved the early morning. It allowed her to spend precious moments in silence and peace as she dressed herself and packed her bags for the day, preparing for her routine run to the school.

All of the students of McKinley high thought she arrived to simply practice her singing, but the truth was that she had to get up early, before _he_ woke up, and get herself to school. She enjoyed running because it took her mind off of everything except her pace, her breathing and the steady pounding of her feet on the pavement, so every morning she woke at the crack of dawn and ran to school, getting there early enough to sneak into the locker rooms, shower and change before anyone – even the janitors – had arrived. It was peaceful, and she loved it.

She never had time to do all of her homework at home, so she always finished whatever was needed in the two or so hours she had before the first bell rang. No one ever bothered her in the auditorium, and she was grateful for that. As much as it would have been nice to have friends, it would disrupt her rhythm, and Rachel liked her rhythm.

Today was Monday. Unlike the rest of the world’s population of high school students, Mondays were Rachel’s favorite day of the week. Mondays meant that she had 5 days of school left for the week. 5 days of Glee, 5 days of seeing them, 5 days of 12 hours away from him. It was bliss. Mondays always found her chipper and out to greet whatever came her way; slushies, insults, bring ‘em on. She was ready.

She hunkered down, spread out her homework on the auditorium stage, and got to work, humming a tune under her breath.

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

Just as Rachel finished the last of her AP Calculus problems, the bell rang, signaling the start of the normal day. Closing the chapter on differentials, she sighed. _‘Time to put on the mask, I suppose’_ , she thought to herself. The mask, as she referred to it, was the persona she had adopted for public. It was her way of hiding her true feelings from the outside world. The mask was bossy, loud, annoying, and a total diva. Not that the real Rachel wasn’t those things…she just amped those ‘qualities’ up… by a lot. If no one liked her, no one would care enough to get to know her, and no one would ever find out her secret. It was perfect. And it gave her plenty of practice in acting for her future. When you’re pretending nearly 10 hours a day, you get pretty good at it.

Gathering her books and papers, she stuffed everything into her bag and set off for her first class of the day, AP Biology.

This was the only class she didn’t have with any of her Cheerios. Quinn was in her AP Calculus, Spanish and AP Lit classes, Santana was in AP Lit as well as Spanish and Government. Brittany was with her in Gym, Spanish and Government. Not surprisingly, Spanish and Glee were two of her absolute favorite classes.

Ever since last year at sectionals, when Rachel had stood up for Santana and Brittany, the trio’s attitudes towards her had improved greatly. Before that, their attacks had been losing their ferocity, but after sectionals they had become pretty lack luster. The names were still there, and the occasional slushy was to be expected, but it was almost as if they had finally come to a tentative truce.

Stopping by her locker to quickly drop off un-needed books and notes, she felt the room pressure shift slightly and closed her locker to subtly watch her Cheerios walk by. Stiffening as Quinn noticed her, her spirits dropped slightly as the shorter blonde sneered as she sent a withering glare towards Rachel. The diva sighed inwardly; it was going to be a long day.

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

A long day may have been an understatement. Quinn was apparently in a vicious mood this week, and had been determined to show little mercy to anyone…particularly Rachel. Scathing remarks were thrown in just about every direction; even Santana and Brittany had told her multiple times to - as Santana delightfully put it - “Calm yo tits, woman”. Rachel spent most of her day avoiding direct eye contact with the blonde (she had seen a documentary in her science class in freshman year on predators, and had found it exceedingly useful when dealing with the volatile young woman), and to add to her bad mood, she found out that her ballet class had been cancelled. She would be forced to head home straight after Glee, or find somewhere to lay low until the usual time practice was over.

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

Rachel arrived at Glee that afternoon hoping beyond hope that her day would at least hold some relief before going home. Mr. Shue was supposed to be giving out random songs that related to this weeks’ project and Rachel couldn’t wait to get a hit of her drug: singing.

She walked through the door, noting that she was late enough where just about everyone had already arrived and been seated. She took the last chair in the front row, sitting up straight and waiting intently for their advisor. She could hear the incessant murmuring of the students around her and relaxed by tuning out the words and concentrating on the rhythm of voices.

As expected, Mr. Schue breezed through the door 7 minutes late, and began removing a folder from his shoulder bag.

“Ok everyone, as you know, this week our assignment is Country Music…” half of the students groaned in annoyance “…so I’ve picked out some songs from well-known artists to get us started.”

He walked around the room, handing each student a sheet of paper with the song lyrics on them. Once he was done, he stood back up at the front of the room and asked everyone to take a look at the song they had been given.

Rachel, impressed with her instructor's unusual amount of preparation for the lesson, looked down at hers eagerly, and felt the blood drain from her face as shock traveled through her body. No. God no. This could NOT be happening to her.

“If you know the song, I would like you to sing it today. If not, go home, look up the rhythm and come ready to sing it tomorrow. I will give you your next assignment then. Also, as country music is a genre relying heavily on personal events and feelings, you must find someone to dedicate your performance to, or something in your life that you feel is important to you. Ok, who’s first?” No one raised their hand.

Rachel quickly stood and walked up to her teacher, pulling him slightly aside.

“Mr. Schuester, while I appreciate that you are unusually well prepared for this meeting, I must request a different song. I cannot sing this song. I…I do not feel that it showcases my voice and talents properly. I will sing any other one, just not this one.” She was determined….desperate.

“Rachel, this song is the one I have chosen for you and I would…”

She interrupted him, “Please, Mr. Schuester, I will sing any other song. Just please, please, don’t make me sing this one.”

He was becoming slightly annoyed with her. “Rachel, you have never turned down a song before, and as soon as I choose one for you, you try to get out of it. I’m afraid I must insist that you sing this song.”

She was getting desperate now. “No, please Mr. Schue…”

This time, it was him who interrupted. “I don’t want to hear it Rachel, you will either sing this song or I will pull you from the next competition solo. It is obvious you know this song, so you will sing it now. I don’t want to deal with you being a diva right now. End of discussion.” He turned away, and Rachel could hear some not-so-discrete snickers from the rest of the Gleeks.

Dread filled her as she took ‘center stage’. There was no getting out of it; all she could do was pray that she held it together without making a complete fool of herself, but she knew it was pretty much helpless with this song.

As she went to nod to the band, she heard Mr. Schue clear his throat. She looked at him, confused, as he raised his eyebrow.

“Your dedication, Rachel?”

She just stared at him, treating him to an indignant, haughty expression.

“No dedication, no solo.” He warned. More snickers.

She glared at him, allowing the anger she felt to hide her pain. She knew exactly who this song belonged to. The first time Rachel had heard it on the radio, she thought it had been written about her sister. It was the song she played every night to go to sleep, imagining the times when she had once felt complete. Singing this song in front of the people who at best tolerated her felt like a betrayal of gigantic proportions. But she knew she had to do it. Solos at competitions were chances to get noticed, a chance to further achieve her dream...their dream.

“Fine," She huffed, "This….this song is for Rose… my Guardian Angel.”

She nodded to the band, and the soft, melancholy melody began. Taking a deep breath and swallowing, she began to sing, her voice husky with untold emotion.

_“She walks to school with the lunch she packed_   
_Nobody knows what she's holding back_   
_Wearing the same dress she wore yesterday_   
_She hides the bruises with the linen and lace, oh”_

Rachel’s eyes close as she let the music flow through her body.

_“The teacher wonders but she doesn't ask_   
_It's hard to see the pain behind the mask_   
_Bearing the burden of a secret storm_   
_Sometimes she wishes she was never born”_

Her voice cracked and trembled softly as she tried in vain to hold back the tears threatening to fall down her cheeks. The club watched, dumbfounded, as their hyper, nearly narcotic but always cheerful leader broke down in front of them.

_“Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone_   
_In a world that she can't rise above_   
_But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place_   
_Where she's loved_   
_Concrete angel”_

Her tears fell unbidden down her cheeks, her voice steady once more. Three girls watched her in shock, her sadness and pain coursing through them as they tried to hold back their tears as well.

_“Somebody cries in the middle of the night_   
_The neighbors hear but they turn out the light_   
_A fragile soul caught in the hands of fate_   
_When morning comes it will be too late”_

Anger, pain, regret. Loss. Memories.

_“Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone_   
_In a world that she can't rise above_   
_But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place_   
_Where she's loved_   
_Concrete angel_

_“A statue stands in a shaded place_   
_An angel girl with an upturned face_   
_A name is written on a polished rock_   
_A broken heart that the world forgot_

_“Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone_   
_In a world that she can't rise above_   
_But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place_   
_Where she's loved_   
_Concrete angel”_

Her voice trailed off with the music, tears still flowing freely down her cheeks. She opened her eyes, breathing hard, and realized the entire club was staring at her.

“I…I’m sorry….I…I-I-I need to go to the bathroom. Ex…excuse me.” And with that, she ran out of the room, leaving only silence behind.


	5. Chapter Four: An Angel's Cry

The silence that Rachel left behind was deafening. Shock was at the forefront of nearly everyone’s minds; they never saw Rachel downtrodden or sad, no matter the treatment she endured, and to see her crying was…disturbing. The remaining glee club members weren’t quite sure what to think about the events that had just transpired. The three Cheerios looked sadly at the slightly ajar door that the distraught diva had fled through.

Brittany was the first to speak.

“That was like, totes uncool Mr. Schue.”

Schuester snapped out of his bubble and stood, walking towards the piano. “Now, Brittany”, he began with what could only be construed as a patronizing tone, “While I do agree that it was very inappropriate for Rachel to simply storm out after a performance like th…”

Santana snorted, stopping him mid-sentence. “She wasn’t talking about Berry, Mr. Schue. She meant you.”

The club stared at her. She rolled her eyes and stood as well, glaring back at them. “The hobbit told you she didn’t want to sing that song. When has she ever turned down the chance for a solo? Making her sing it was, like, me-and-Quinn-PMSing-at-the-same-time cruel. No, wait. It was worse. Kudos.”

Will, thrown for yet another loop as he was criticized by a student – especially a student who had shown so much animosity towards the diva - shook his head. “Santana, Rachel is prone to dramat...where do you think you’re going?” She had begun to follow Rachel out the door, and he didn’t want a second diva storm out.

Santana, thoroughly annoyed by this point, turned back towards him and gave him her best HBIC glare. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to see if that girl who ran out of here sobbing is ok. Unlike the rest of you, the ones who call yourself her friends.” Flipping her ponytail over her shoulder, she stalked out of the door.

Brittany and Quinn glanced at each other, conversing silently. As much as they wanted to race after Santana and go make sure Rachel was ok, they both knew that Santana was the one who had to do this; other than being the nurturer in their trio, she was also the most guilt ridden about how they had treated the tiny diva.

Resolving to let Santana tell them when she returned, they turned icy glares on the rest of the glee club, crossed their arms, and waited.

William cleared his throat. “Well,” he began, casting a nervous glance at Quinn, who by now as looking quite murderous, “Well, yes, it seems, uh, that we should, uh, call that a meeting for today. Remember, come tomorrow with your songs ready. And, uh, don’t forget your dedications!” With that jaunty reminder - finger waving and all -, he made a hasty retreat.

As soon as the door closed behind him, the entire glee club, minus Quinn and Brittany, erupted into speculations about Rachel’s performance. Britt could see her blonde girlfriend getting more and more agitated as the speculations got wilder, and new she had to calm Quinn down before she did something she regretted.

Knowing that either no one was paying attention, or that it would be interpreted as her affectionate nature, Brittany slipped her arms around Quinn’s waist from behind. “Calm down, sweetie,” she soothed into her ear, “Remember where we are, who we’re with. You need to calm down and be Quinn, HBIC and Head Cheerio, not Quinn, the girl who’s in love with Rachel right now, ok? I know you want to protect her, but do it subtly.”

Quinn relaxed into the firm embrace, hearing Brittany’s words for truth. She sighed heavily and straightened her posture - cueing her girlfriend to release the protective hold on her - and replaced the mask she wore so often at school. 

“God, you’re all pathetic,” she said loudly, grabbing the other glee-clubbers’ attention. “Gossiping like little school girls about someone you claim to care about. Very mature.”  
A few of her teammates had the grace to look ashamed, even - to her surprise - the other self-proclaimed ‘divas’ of New Directions, Mercedes and Kurt. Tina and Mike - who had   
honestly been trying to do the same thing as Quinn - shot grateful looks her way, but Finn just looked constipated and confused as usual. 

“I think Mr. Schue called an end to the meeting, so we’ll see you losers tomorrow. Buh-bye, now.” She gave them the most sickly sweet smile she could muster and watched them all shuffle through the door. 

Now they just had to wait for Santana to come back and fill them in on their tiny starlet.

///---///---///

 _‘Come on, Estrella,’_ Thought Santana as she hurried through the halls of the deserted school, _‘Please be where I think you are. Don’t choose today to find a new safe-haven…’_

She had taken a split second outside of the choir room to think about all of the places Rachel usually went to find solitude, and quickly came to the conclusion that there was only really one place she would go. She wouldn’t be in the auditorium; it was too close to the choir room, and the large, echoing feeling of the room was not someplace to cry your eyes out. Under the bleachers was also out, as the football team would be practicing and Rachel wouldn’t want to encounter any other people. That left the bathroom. The normally deserted bathroom that Rachel had claimed as her ‘slushie clean-up’ bathroom since most kids avoided it.

Picking up her pace, the Latina wove her way through the hallways, hoping against hope that Rachel would talk to her. She had no idea how she was going to get the girl to believe she wasn’t playing a trick on her, or trying to hurt her. She just prayed that Rachel would give her a small chance. Just this time.

Finally, she reached the bathroom she was looking for. Pressing her ear against the door, she knocked softly, not wanting to barge in and upset the distraught girl further. “Rachel?” she called quietly, “Estre…Rachel, it’s me, Santana. May I come in? Please?” Silently, she prayed for a response from the tiny diva.

///---///---///

Rachel was too dazed to be surprised at hearing Santana’s voice coming through the door of her hiding place. She couldn’t understand why she had reacted so violently to singing her song. She had learned long ago that tears were a dangerous weakness, and crying took up too much energy to be given heed. Sure, she hadn't wanted to sing Rose’s song in front of the entire Glee club, but her dramatic reaction of sobbing uncontrollably was baffling her. 

She took a deep breath, calming her frazzled nerves; _Santana_ wanted to talk with her, and Rachel found that even if it was to berate her for storming out, she desperately wanted to be around the latina at the moment. Seeing her would bring her comfort. 

“Yes, Santana, of course you may.”

Her voice sounded hoarse to her ears, and she hoped Santana wouldn’t mention that fact. Crying, well sobbing, really, was terrible for the vocal cords. 

She didn’t look up as Santana entered the bathroom, choosing instead to keep looking at her knees. She had been perched on the counter, facing the restroom stalls as she calmed her breathing; she knew that her face was still wet with tears, most likely splotchy and red with emotion. She had no wish for Santana to see her like that; after all, the latina probably was only looking for an explanation for her ‘diva storm out’. 

“I’m terribly sorry about that,” she began quietly. “I have absolutely no idea what caused me to react in such a...well, dramatic fashion. What everyone must think...Admittedly, I am quite a diva...”

She stopped speaking abruptly as a warm, soft had reached gently under her chin and tilted her face up, forcing her eyes to meet the other girl’s. As she stared into warm, mahogany eyes, the hand under her chin moved to cup her cheek, it’s twin gracing the opposite side. She felt gentle thumbs wiping away the tracks her tears had made while Santana whispered   
a soft, soothing hushing sound.

“Don’t worry about that.” She commanded gently, “Are you ok?”

Rachel was nearly driven to tears again; she had waited so long, so _very_ long, for one of her girls to care for her, to notice her in a positive way. It was like a dream come true, and even if this later turned out to be some kind of horrible joke played on her (which she wouldn’t put past them, as much as she loved them), at the moment it didn’t matter. She was going to take whatever she could get.

“I...Yes, thank you Santana. I am fine. As I stated previously, I honestly do not know what came over me. The song is emotional, but it is hardly something worth expending such energy on. Thank you for...for caring enough to check up on me.”

Santana gave a small smile, and Rachel could see the self-deprecation within it. “No problem, Tiny. Listen...I know I haven’t been the best person to you, but I don’t hate you. I kinda think of you as a friend, and I hope we can at least be acquaintances now that I’ve stopped being a complete douche.” She let her hands fall reluctantly from Rachel’s face. “I mean, I’ll probably still call you names, ‘cause I’m a bitch, and I says it likes it is, but...anyway.”

Rachel gave her a soft smile. “I have always considered you a friend, Santana. I accept your offer.” She slid off of the counter, rolling up her sleeves without much thought, and turned the faucet on to clean her face of evidence. As she cupped her hands under the flow of water, a tanned hand came into view and gently ran a finger over her now very obvious bruise. Her father had done that yesterday, and his fingers had left a very vivid reminder. Rachel was paralyzed with fear. She realized if she had been crying, the makeup covering the bruise on her cheek would now be visible as well, and glanced into the mirror to confirm her suspicion. 

She met Santana’s eyes through the mirror, seeing the look of anger on the latina’s face, along with a bit of shock and worry. “Rachel...who did this to you?”  
She quickly forced out a laugh. “Oh, clumsy me. I was shopping yesterday and tripped. A good samaritan was able to catch my arm before I fell, but unfortunately I hit my cheek on a shelf. Really, nothing to worry about. But I must say that’s one lovely looking bruise it left, wouldn’t you?” As soon as the lie was out of her mouth, she realized her mistake. The bruise was on her left cheek - the same side as her bruised arm. For her story to pan out, the bruise would have had to be on the opposite side. Cursing herself, she eased her arm away from Santana’s grip and made her way to the bathroom door before Santana could realize her slip. Just as she reached the door handle however, she realized that the Latina’s brain was working double time as she called out to stop her. 

“Rachel...” she began, her voice soft and full of an emotion that Rachel refused to place, “Who...who is Rose?”

Rachel closed her eyes, knowing that she couldn’t lie about this. She’d never hide Rose, never betray her like that. She opened the bathroom door, “Rose was my sister.” And with that, she slipped into the hallway, leaving a stricken Santana behind.


	6. Chapter Five: Angel's Retreat

Chapter Five: Angel's Retreat

Brittany and Quinn met Santana in the hallway just inside the front doors of McKinley and knew by the look on her face that something during her talk with Rachel had upset her greatly. Quinn reached out and gently grasped her hand.

“San? What...”

“We need to follow her.” Santana interrupted, looking almost frantic. “Did either of you see which way she went? Or know where she lives?” It suddenly occurred to Santana that she had never heard Rachel mention where she lived; she had never really said anything about her family, or her home life. _‘And now I know why,’_ she thought bitterly, cursing herself for not paying enough attention, for bullying the diva regardless of her fears.

Both blondes shook their heads to answer Santana’s questions. They hadn’t even seen Rachel leave the school, which was odd considering the diva should have had to pass them on the way out of the school.

“Damn it!” Santana blew past them and pushed the doors of the school with all of the strength anger and fear leant her. Skipping down the stairs, she vaguely heard her blonde girlfriends call after her as she ran to the curb, looking in either direction, desperately hoping to see a car or a small, lone figure walking away from the school. Seeing nothing, tears of frustration and guilt spilled from her eyes. 

“Santana!” Quinn, despite having shorter legs than Brittany, had reached her first. She grasped both of the Latina’s shoulders and tried to look into her eyes, shocked to see tears rolling down the cheeks of the normally stoic girl. 

“We have to find her Q.” Santana whispered, her voice raw and nearly begging with Quinn to understand. “We just...we need...” She collapsed into Quinn’s arms, sobbing. Quinn wrapped her arms tightly around the brunette, at a loss at what to do. She had only seen the Latina in this state two times in her entire life, and neither of those were memories she wanted to relive.

“San? San sweetie, I need you to tell me what happened. Why do we need to find Rachel? What did she tell you?” Quinn looked desperately at Brittany, who had caught up with them as Santana had began sobbing, pleading with her to do something. The dancer smiled sadly, telling Quinn silently that she was doing exactly what was needed of her. The taller blonde moved closer, behind Santana, and wrapped her long arms around the both of them, providing whatever comfort she could.

Santana took a deep, shuddering breath, and tried to calm her breathing. “Sh-she..the song she s-sung...God, Q, it’s h-her life! Her d-dedication was to her s-sister. She didn’t say what happened...didn’t say anything really, but it was so obvious...and she t-tried to wash the tears from her f-face, and I-I” She released a shuddering breath, recalling the ice cold dread that had washed through her in the bathroom. “...I saw bruises, Q. On her face and her wrist. She tried to give me some bullshit story about falling, but it didn’t add up.” She shook her head and pulled from the comforting embrace. 

“We need to get her out of there. If...if her sister...if she died because of abuse...” Santana didn’t need to finish her sentence. A feeling of abject terror and dread filled each of the girls at the thought of what could possible happen to their little diva if they left her in that situation. But as much as she wanted to jump in, proverbial guns blazing, Brittany realized that without any idea where Rachel had gone, they were stuck.

"San, there's nothing we can do today. We could drive all over town and not find her. We'll go tomorrow, ok? As soon as school ends, we'll make sure not to let her out of our sight and find out where she lives.” She gave her girls a tight squeeze and let them go, opening the door of Santana’s car. “C’mon, we’ll stay at my place tonight. I know I don’t want to be alone when I’m a sad panda.”

Santana was nearly inconsolable for another hour. Quinn had retreated into her head and Brittany had no idea how to make them feel better. Bullying the tiny girl had taken it’s toll on both girls’ mindset over the years, and doing nothing about it had done it’s damage on Brittany as well. The guilt was overwhelming.

Eventually guilt was replaced by determination in Santana, and Brittany was relieved to see it. When San set her mind on something, she was worse than a bulldog in letting go - it simply didn’t happen. Quinn was another story; Santana and Brittany had seen her like this before too many times to count, and knew when it was time to leave Quinn to her own, hopefully non-destructive devices. Both girls knew that Quinn’s mentally and sometimes physically abusive upbringing had scarred the girl deeply - hearing that Rachel had gone through abuse that was probably worse than hers caused Quinn to shut down. She needed to process, and the time and space to do it. The introspective blonde could be one of the most loving people you would ever meet, but she had a sadistic streak a mile wide when you caught her on the wrong day and she often had a hard time coping with herself then. She could become hyper-focused on an idea or task, losing perspective on what was going on around her or what the consequences of her actions could be. Her girlfriends suspected that once they moved to New York it would be a good idea to get Quinn into therapy, but while in Lima they had no means to do so.

None of the three girls got much sleep that night. They huddled together in Brittany’s room, tossing about thoughts of how to get Rachel away from her home-life. They were three teenage girls in a tiny town in the middle-of-nowhere Ohio. Rachel was obviously scared to go against her parents, as there had never been any reports of child-abuse in their town and Santana’s father was the District Attorney, her mother a doctor in the E.R. 

And if they did manage to find Rachel, would she even believe them? After years of torment, would she allow them close? As the sky began to lighten through Brittany’s window, all they knew was that they had to try, come hell or high water.

///---///---///---///---///

The next day dragged on for the three cheerleaders. Rachel seemed to be avoiding them as much as possible, and the girls were grateful that she had most of her classes with at least one of them, but each time she sat as far away from them as possible. Today was one of the days New Directions did not meet after class, and the girls were worried that as good as Rachel was at disappearing into a crowd, she’d escape their sight at the end of the day before they had a chance to follow her.

AP Lit, however - the last class of the day for Santana, Quinn and Rachel - gave them exactly what they needed and the perfect excuse. The teachers of both AP Lit and English 12 - the normal English class for seniors, and the English class that Brittany was in - had decided to do a play together; Shakespeare’s Hamlet. They had decided to team-up students from both classes in teams of four to study a certain passage and later discuss it with the class.

With 25 students in English 12 and 27 students in AP Literature, it just worked out that there would be one group with 3 students from AP Lit and 1 student from English 12 instead of the standard 2 and 2. That group, in a stroke of extraordinary luck - and a bit of student favoritism and fear of one coach Sue Sylvester - was comprised of Santana Lopez, Quinn Fabray and Rachel Berry from AP Lit, and Brittany Pierce from English 12. Quinn, ever the lit geek, was nearly salivating over being given Act 4, Scene V - Ophelia’s final scene. Getting to work with her girls and Rachel made that the icing on a very delicious cupcake. 

The teachers spent the majority of class going over the project guidelines - each team had to meet outside of class, discuss the scene or scenes they had been given. They were to decide which team member played which character, and who would the the main presenter during the in-class discussion. The project would last two weeks. The final 10 minutes of class were given to the students to meet in their groups and begin working on the project. 

Rachel nervously made her way to where the three had been sitting together. She dearly hoped they didn’t bring up the events of yesterday; she didn’t think she could deal with that for a second day straight.This project, she had a feeling, would be both torture and a gift; time spent outside of school with the three Cheerios, getting to know them better and getting to talk to them...she just hoped she could survive two weeks of their ever present curiosity and need for information.

Santana was, of course, the first to spot her. “Hey, Hobbit.” She greeted, but Rachel could hear no animosity in the term. Truth be told, she was beginning to like that particular nickname. “So, me, B and Q all have Cheerios practice before school, so I figured on the days we don’t have glee, we can meet and work on this project. ‘Kay?”  
Rachel nodded, almost afraid to speak incase doing so reminded Santana of their bathroom encounter. Santana frowned. “You ok, there, Hobbit? Usually we can’t get you to shut up.”

“Yes, yes I am perfectly well, thank you Santana. I was... simply surprised that you were all so willing to meet and discuss the project. A fact for which I couldn’t be more ecstatic, make no mistake...”

Rachel nearly wiped her brow with relief as Santana rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah we gets it, we’re awesome. Anyways, we’ve already gots plans for today, so we’ll meet Thursday, ‘kay?”

“Yes, that is amenable.”

“Fantastic. See ya, Dwarf.” And with that, the three Cheerios parted the class like the Red Sea as they left the room.

///---///---///---///---///

Sitting in Santana’s car, waiting for Rachel to emerge from the school, the three Cheerios felt as if they were in a t.v. show, on a stakeout. 

Their plan was to be discrete as possible; watch which way Rachel went, wait until she turned a corner or was somewhat out of sight, and follow in the car. If it got to be too close, one of them would get out and follow on foot. It occurred to them 30 minutes after leaving class that Rachel could have left through the back of the school, but luckily after waiting patiently (not at all) for 45 minutes - after most of the students had left, the small girl emerged. Santana had parked her car in between two large SUVs owned by the football team, who were all practicing today, so her car was fairly well concealed, which they were immediately thankful for as Rachel took a good long look around before making her way across the parking lot, turning left, and continuing her slow trek away from the school. 

To their shock and relief, their plan worked. It took nearly 30 minutes of bated breath and careful direction cataloging before Rachel slowed down and fished around in her backpack for a key. During this pause, the girls took inventory of their surroundings. 

They were in a small, somewhat deserted neighborhood. While not run-down, the houses were slightly less well kept than most middle-class properties in suburban Lima. The grass on the lawns was turning a dull brown, and there were few trees along the block. All in all, it was an unremarkable area, easily forgettable but all together fairly normal. It was not what the girls had been expecting. Their overactive imaginations had Rachel living in a hovel, with peeling paint and cracked windows, thugs on the street corners and dogs barking and howling viciously. The address was number 48 (not the 666 the girls had been expecting) and the street name again unremarkable - Pine Drive (not Knockturn Alley). 

Halfway down the block, Rachel had turned up the driveway of one of the unremarkable houses, painted an easily forgettable beige with white trimmings, with a slightly browner lawn than the others and no cars parked in the driveway. The shutters were drawn in every window. Along the way, Rachel’s posture had changed remarkably. Usually her posture was perfect; back straight, chin up, shoulders back. The closer they had gotten to this address, the more rounded her shoulders became, the lower her chin went and she began to walk as if the weight of the world was in her backpack. She looked even tinier than ever, and with her hair hiding her face they would not have recognized her if passing her on the sidewalk.

“So...” began Santana, unsure of what to do as Rachel disappeared behind the door of her house. 

“Do you think her parents are home?” Asked Brittany. 

Quinn shook her head. “There aren’t any cars in the driveway. Even if they don’t have a lot of money, I bet they have a car.”

“Then maybe now’s the best time? To get her out of there, before they get home?” Santana was antsy to get moving. Perhaps it was because she knew that Rachel was hurt, but this whole block gave her the heebie-jeebies. It was too unremarkable, too quiet. Deserted. Like it was sucking the life out of anything and anyone there.

“Uh...” Quinn glanced at the clock, surprised to see it was almost 5:00 in the afternoon. If they didn’t get home soon, Brittany’s dad’s would call Santana’s parents, which would lead to getting Quinn’s family involved which opened a whole can of worms none of them wanted to think about. 

“Uh...yeah. Yeah, let’s do it now.” Santana parked the car on the sidewalk in front of the house next door, and they got out of the car. Nerves assaulted their bellies and their hands shook. They didn’t know why they were so nervous, but they knew that what they were doing was big. Big, but right.

Each taking a deep breath as they approached the door, Santana reached out and knocked lightly. It took a few moments, but soon they heard the click of a lock being undone. The door was pulled open to reveal Rachel, dressed in the same clothing she wore to school, with a confused look on her face that quickly turned to shock and what they thought might be dismay. 

“Wh..what are you doing here? How did you find out where I live”

The girls at least had the grace to look sheepish. “Well,” began Santana hesitantly, “We kinda..well, we...”

“We followed you. From school. In our car.” Quinn finished bluntly.

Eyes wide as saucers, Rachel’s gaze flitted to Santana’s car parked meters away, then back to the trio standing in front of her. 

“Why are you here?” she asked slowly, as if not really wanting to hear the answer. 

“We were hoping you’d come home with us.” Quinn told her, trying to look as nonchalant as possible, but failing miserably. 

“After our little chat yesterday and with our project from today, we were kinda hoping you’d come with us and talk a little, maybe we could work on the project if you don’t want to?” Santana explained. 

“Yeah, Rache, we just wanted to make sure you’re safe.” Brittany looked earnestly at the tiny diva, hoping she’d agree and come with them.

“While I appreciate the concern ladies, I can assure you that I am perfectly...” She trailed off, not finishing what the Cheerios were sure was a complete and utter lie, as they heard a car pull into the driveway. 

Turning to look, they saw a dark blue sedan roll to a stop and the engine cut off as a man exited the car. They looked back at Rachel to see her eyes wide with fear, standing stock still, nearly frozen. The three heard footsteps get closer as Rachel lowered her eyes once more. 

“Rachel, what is this?” 

The girls turned again to be greeted by a relatively tall but stocky and unremarkable man standing behind them. He was about 5’11, with a pudgy beer belly and mousy brown hair cut short. He was clean shaven with pale, nearly sallow skin. His eyes were an indistinguishable color, but all the girls would remember about him were those eyes and how cold and dead they seemed. Passing him on the street, you wouldn't look twice and you'd never remember his face. He didn't stand out, and if there is a definition of average Joe, he fit it quite well. But there was one thing, besides his eyes, that frightened the three girls more than anything else.

He was a police officer.

Rachel’s voice was quiet as she greeted him. “Hello, father.”


	7. Angels and Demons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _A.N. Like, woah. I'm actually updating. It’s been over a year. I’m a worthless worm (no offense to worms)._
> 
> _I am so, so so so so sorry guys. I really meant to have a new chapter for you guys up right after the last, but literally days after I’d posted that I got my acceptance letter for my Master’s degree in Ireland. It’s been a whirlwind ever since. I haven’t given up on Angel Girl (or my other stories, for that matter), I swear._
> 
>   _Soo...yeah I have to say I got the most amusing responses to the last chapter. Horrified is a good way to describe them, and it made me cackle with pure evil glee (pun not intended) and amusement. I am so glad no one expected that! Muahahahah._
> 
>   _Major, major love to people who still follow, favorite, read and review. AG has 400 followers on ff.net! Holy fuck guys you’re amazing. Also, shameless bit of self promotion here, I’ve recently started a tumblr, found here: b00ksandcleverness dot tumblr dot com. Come follow me! We can be tumblr friends, although I will warn you my blog has nothing to do with Glee. Right now I’m fangirling (hard) over Orphan Black, so...yeah._
> 
> _Anyway, now is when you (and our other lovely ladies) begin to see why Rachel has never tried to escape, as well as where her issues stem from. This was, for some reason, an incredibly difficult chapter for me to write, but I hope you enjoy it anyway._

A fucking police officer. Rachel’s tormenter was one of the people who had sworn to protect the innocent. Santana saw red. Luckily, it was Quinn who spoke first.

“Hello Mr. Berry, my name is Quinn Fabray and this is Santana and Brittany. We’re classmates of Rachel’s. We ended up being picked for a group project in English and we wanted to get started on it so we were wondering if Rachel could come over to my house for a bit to study.” She glanced quickly at Rachel, who still hadn’t looked up from the ground, and back at the man observing them.

“I see,” he commented, now looking at Rachel. “Rachel?”

The diva seemed to shrink even further into herself as she forced herself to answer. “I was just telling them that I would of course need to ask for your permission first, father, and that I wasn’t sure what time you would be home from your shift, since Mondays are usually quite hectic for you.”

Rachel’s father didn’t take his eyes off of the small brunette. “I see.” He repeated. The girls shivered at the sound of his voice. “Do you have any other homework to do, Rachel?”

Rachel stared in apparent shock at her father, before subtly shaking her head. “No, father, all of my schoolwork was completed during my lunch break.”

The man’s cold, dead eyes glanced at the three cheerleaders, and then back to Rachel, his face expressionless. The silence was deafening.

“I suppose, then, it would be alright if you went. But Rachel, study only and I expect you to be back here before dinner, am I understood?”

Rachel blinked, looking a bit like a fish out of water. “Y..yes, of course, father. Um..Th-thank you.” She looked back at the girls and caught Santana’s eye. “Um, if you would excuse me for a moment, ladies, I will gather my school work. I won’t be longer than a moment.”

And with that, she disappeared once more into the depths of the house, leaving Santana, Quinn and Brittany alone with her father. Quinn, not wanting the situation to get more awkward than it was and give Rachel’s father an excuse to keep her from them, stepped forward with her hand outstretched.

“Forgive our manners, sir. My name is Quinn Fabray, this is Santana Lopez, and Brittany Pierce. Thank you so much for allowing Rachel to come study with us; she’s very intelligent and we’re happy to be her study-partners.”

They all shook his hand and tried not to shudder in disgust. He merely nodded with a grunt. “Ronald Berry. This group work thing, that new? Rachel has never had to participate in one before.”

The girls glanced nervously at each other, but it was Santana who finally spoke up. “Yes, Officer Berry,” She internally gagged at the title, but knew that buttering up this despicable human being was perhaps one of the most important things she’d ever done, “The English teachers from both senior classes decided to team up for an assignment. We’re studying Shakespeare's Hamlet right now, so we were all paired off to study different acts.”

“I see.” Ronald Barry was apparently a man of few words.

At that moment, Rachel reappeared with her schoolbag in hand.

“Remember, Rachel. Not a minute past 7:00. I’ll see you later.” Rachel nodded demurely.

“Of course, father. 7:00 pm. Thank you.” and followed the girls towards their car.

///---///---//---//--//--//--//--/--/-

It was nearly 20 past 5:00pm by the time they had arrived at Brittany’s house. The car ride had been awkward and silent, none of the girls knowing what to say or how to start a conversation, and Rachel seemed to be in some sort of shock. Or maybe she was being stubborn. The Cheerios weren’t quite sure which.

As Santana pulled into the driveway, she turned to face Rachel, who’d been given the front passenger seat. “Thanks for coming, Hobbit.” She paused, thinking about going on, but remembered they were still in the car. “You, uh, you hungry or something? Britt’s dads always have some snacks ready for us.”

Rachel looked at her blankly. “Um. I, um. I would appreciate refreshments, yes. Thank you.”

They all made their way out of the car and into the house, where they found two men waiting for them in the kitchen.

Michel and Daniel Peirce were both tall with athletic builds, kind eyes, big smiles, and were two of the nicest people you’d ever meet. Michel had immigrated from the Netherlands when he was attending NYU, where he had met Daniel, a student in the pre-med program. They had been together ever since, and had made the decision to move to Ohio when Brittany had come along. Dan had been offered a position at the ER in a nearby town, and Michel was able to secure a position at a small but respected law firm.

This was one of the few days when both men were free from work, and they both greeted the group as they walked in.

“Hey Mr.’s P!” Santana greeted with a grin. Brittany gave both men a hug and Quinn echoed Santana.

“Daddy, Pa, this is Rachel Berry. She’s a friend from school and we’re all working on a play together for English. Rachel, this is my Pa, Michel -” She pointed the blonde man on her left , “And my daddy Daniel.” She gestured to the brunette man behind her.

Rachel, ever mindful of her manners, shook both of their hands. “Hello Mr. and Mr. Peirce. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Daniel playfully smacked his husband on the shoulder. “So polite! We should keep her around, teach these three a thing or two.” He was met with various exclamations of protest. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Rachel. And please, feel free to call us Dan and Mike; we’re not very formal around here. Will you be staying the night?”

The brunette looked positively terrified at the very thought. “No, I’m afraid I must be back by seven this evening. But thank you for your offer and hospitality.”

“Well, that’s a shame, but we’re glad you could come over for a little while. Here are some snacks for you girls; have fun studying!” It was Michel spoke with a subtle accent that Rachel didn’t recognize, which intrigued her. Maybe she’d ask Brittany about it later.

Santana eagerly grabbed at the plate of oddly assorted snacks - cookies, a fruit salad, and carrots and celery with ranch dip - and led the group up to Brittany’s room.

Rachel had never seen such a wonderful room. The walls and carpet were cream (Rachel was honestly surprised not to see pink covering everything), with assorted posters and pictures. Brittany had a huge four poster bed in the middle of the far wall, against a window, and a desk, dresser and some bean bags scattered around. She wondered if rooms like this one were what normal girls had.

“Here, Rachie.” Brittany gestured to a purple beanbag she had dragged over. The three other bean bags were soon positioned around the plate of snacks in a circle and each girl had plopped into a fluffy seat. Well, the Cheerios plopped. Rachel sat primly and was surprised to find that the bean bags were actually very comfortable to sit in.

“You have a lovely room, Brittany.” Ever one for manners, Rachel wouldn’t let her discomfort with the situation allow her to be a rude guest. Britt beamed at her.

“Rachel,” Quinn spoke up then, directing her attention to the shorter blonde. “I know we made you uncomfortable, and we’re so sorry about that, but after Santana saw your bruises yesterday...Rach, we just couldn’t leave it alone. We wanted to get you out of there.”

“Thank you for your concern, ladies, but truly I’m -”

“Don’t you dare say you’re fine.” Santana fiercely cut her off. “I know it may seem like we never cared about you Rachel, but that’s a lie, and you’re not fine. We’re gonna help you get away from him, I promise.”

Rachel was overwhelmed. “And how do you suppose to do that, hm? As you saw, my father is an officer of the law. If you were wondering why I haven’t run away from him before - other than the fact that he is my father, and he’s all I have - well, now you know. It’s my word against his.”

“Rachel, it’s not just your word! Any doctor would take one look at you and call the cops.”

“Exactly.”

Santana, Quinn, and Brittany were shocked again into silence.

“My father...may not be kind to me, but he always talks about how well liked he is at the precinct. How he always tells them what a trouble maker I am. If the cops are called, it would be years of his words and his friendships and his reputation against mine. I would lose, every time, and then I would lose everything, don’t you understand? And I’m still unsure of why you would care so much. I was under the impression that you, at the very best, disliked me immensely.”

Santana and Quinn had the grace to look ashamed. Brittany gave them tolerant glares. “We never hated you, Rachie, but we made really bad decisions to care more about our reputations than the people around us.”

“No, B,” Quinn corrected her gently, “It was never you. It was me and Santana. More me than Santana. I’m so sorry, Rachel. I...I was so scared of not being at the top of the food chain that I didn’t care who I stepped on to get there. And when I realized what a bitch I was being, I couldn’t bare the thought of losing my place to apologize to you and everyone else. Reputation is everything to my father, and I couldn’t disappoint him.”

Rachel wanted to trust them, she really did, but she also wouldn’t put it past them to pull a horrible prank on her. So she stayed silent, looking down at her folded hands.

“Listen, Rach, we really want to try and prove to you that we’re sorry, and we also want to help you get away from that monster, but we don’t want to make you uncomfortable, either, so if you want we can just work on our English project?” Santana was looking hopefully at the tiny diva, who immediately relaxed a minute amount

“Yes, Santana, I think that would be lovely. Thanky you.”

They worked in relative peace for the next hour until they had to drive Rachel back, though she vehemently protested until they pointed out that she’d never walked from Brittany’s house before, and that she would be late if they didn’t. She’d paled at that and acquiesced to letting them drive her.

They all hated themselves a little for letting her walk back through that front door.


End file.
